


Ribs

by nerigby96



Series: Insult to Injury [8]
Category: Martin and Lewis
Genre: 1940s, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Gentle Kissing, Hotels, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerigby96/pseuds/nerigby96
Summary: 1940s.A hotel.
Relationships: Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin
Series: Insult to Injury [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565770
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	Ribs

“What the fuck?”

“Kid, it’s not—”

“I hafta go.”

“ _Christ_ , Jer, come back, come inside.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“C’mon, c’mere.”

He mumbled some weak protest. Dean coaxed him through the door. The kid gawked at the state of the room: sheets bundled in one corner; glass shards collected on the dresser; twists of bloodied tissue brimming in the wastebasket. He stared at the carpet. There was a stain, not crimson or brown, something else, in the shape of Florida; Dean saw him focus on it. He knew how it looked. He never meant the kid to see this. _Just a little sparring_ , he’d said. _Not for real, Dean?_ He rubbed his face. Then he went to the kid, turned him round and tipped up his chin. He was crying steadily and stared in renewed horror at the sight of him. Then he shut his eyes tight.

“ _Ehi_.” He held his face, let his thumbs stroke. “I’m all right.”

“You’re _dead_ , you putz,” he choked. He held Dean’s wrists. “You look like you were found in a ditch somewhere and I got dragged down to the morgue to identify the body.” His grip tightened. “You look like one of your buddies showed up to collect a debt.” Nails dug into bone. “You look like—”

“Too tight, Jer.”

The kid let go. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and for a moment the only sound was the sporadic hitch in his throat.

As gently as he could, Dean said, “You knew I was a boxer, Jer.”

“Yeah. _Was_.” His eyes were still closed.

“Jerry, will you look at me?”

“Nu-uh.”

Dean let go his face abruptly, unfair anger rising in him. “It’s not all that _bad_.”

“No?” In a poor imitation of a blind man, Jerry raised his hands. Dean froze beneath his long, deft fingers. “Split lip,” he said, “cut cheekbone, bruised eye.” His voice caught. He coughed. He went on: “Ear swollen, bump on…” His index finger had found a place behind Dean’s ear; it sent a not unpleasant shiver down his neck and over his scalp. Then the fingertip slipped down Dean’s jaw, came to rest under his chin. “I don’t wanna see that,” he added in a whisper. “I don’t wanna look at that.” The finger moved in, bumped over his twitching Adam’s apple, and came to rest in the dip between his collar bones. “Is that all?” he asked.

“What – do you mean?” Something about the kid’s finger there made it hard to speak, hard to breathe. Dean cleared his throat. “What’s _all_?”

“Are you… hurt? Anywhere else?”

He meant to reassure him, but found himself saying, “A little.” Dean thought about the bruises down his side, how it hurt his ribs to inhale, and he realised now that once the kid had started touching him, the pain had receded to a sort of whisper. Radio static.

The finger hooked into the V of his shirt. Dean wished he’d buttoned up, put on a vest, a tie – then pictured the kid tugging at the knot and had to take a moment to shove that image clear from his mind.

“Lemme see.”

Dean stared at the kid, whose eyes were open now and trained on the smooth, tan suggestion of his friend’s chest. It would be easy – so easy – to tell him no, to tell him he’s fine, to tell him not to worry. But something in him shifted, and Dean could only nod.

Dean got out of the shirt and let the kid survey the damage. A small, sad “Oh, Dean” was all he heard, and then the kid was touching him.

“ _Ehi_ ,” he said, but softly, without protest. “What is this?”

“Looking,” he said.

“You can’t look with your eyes?”

“It’s a medical condition.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Jerry said, and the smile in his voice made Dean feel comfortable enough to look at him.

“It hurts?” Stroking. Eyes keen and focused, he looked older, somehow.

“Y-yeah.”

Jerry nodded, chewing his lips. With an effort so huge Dean could see every part of it, he looked up, flinched, held gaze with that mashed-up face.

“Can I…” He shook his head.

“What?”

“I wanna kiss… kiss it better.”

Dean heard the word the kid dropped and changed. _I wanna kiss you_ was too much for him right now, too much for both of them, maybe, even if Dean could shrug it off, even if the kid could pretend he was kidding.

“Which one?” Dean asked, trying to laugh.

“Any.” Jerry shrugged. “All.”

Dean’s mouth was dry. “Sure,” he said but couldn’t look.

A hesitant mouth brushed against Dean’s wounds bar one – neither called attention to the neglected split in his bottom lip – and then the kid held his face as gently as he could and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s the worst one, boy” he declared. “I don’t think I can fix it.”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Dean echoed and pulled the kid into a gentle hug. “All right now?”

“Mm.” The kid had stiffened a little and didn't hug him back. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“You want I should be naked too?”

Dean snorted and let him go, collected his shirt from the floor with a grunt. When he looked back, there was colour high in the kid’s cheeks.

“You look awful,” he said. “I mean it sincerely.”

“Thanks.”

“I just… I hate this. I hate the idea of your doing that.”

“We need the money, Jer.” _We_ , he thought. _Me and Sonny_ , but for a moment, hadn’t it seemed like he meant _Me and you_? He pushed on: “People pay, we box.”

“Oh, sure. You box, you get hurt. Maybe you die.” He shrugged. Then he put on a punch-drunk voice: “Soun’ goo’ ta me!”

“Aw, c’mon, Jer, I’m not gonna die.”

“Promise.”

Dean’s heart stopped. He stammered and struggled and managed to whisper, “I promise I won’t die,” and suddenly he had to hold his friend again.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'm here, but have this vaguely sweet fic to temper the horrific angst of the next one.  
> Thank you so much for reading <3


End file.
